Pitch Perfect(73)

Could he really be held responsible for what he’d said when he was potentially concussed? He barely remembered what had happened leading up to the statement. He knew he’d been upset and reacting out of fear, and it had resulted in an abrupt change of topic to their relationship.

The truth was she was good luck, and he tried not to put too much stock in superstition, but it was undeniable things had been going well for the team since he and Emmy had gotten together, and he couldn’t overlook winning streaks. Luck was luck, and he was getting lucky on every front.

She unlocked his hotel door for him, holding it open so he could pass by her. Handing him his keycard, she turned to go.

“I thought you were going to spend the night,” he said.

“You heard the doctor. You’re fine.”

“Emmy…you know that’s not why I want you to stay.”

She gazed up at him, and he was very aware of how tall he was in comparison to her. She seemed so small standing in front of him. He recalled the way he could hold her body, the way his hands wrapped around her waist, and the memory of it got him hot and bothered. He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, and she leaned her cheek into his hand.

“I want to, but we… You know we shouldn’t.”

“We can say it’s because of the head wound. Say you wanted to be sure. You know, better safe than a dead pitcher?”

She seemed to contemplate it, and he knew she’d considered bending the truth to their favor because of the conversation they’d had before she’d taken him to the hospital.

“I’m not totally sure I can stay without people knowing.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t make it easy for me to, you know, keep quiet.”

Tucker laughed and held the door open, inviting her in. He laid his face against the door and tried to look as innocent as possible. “I promise to be gentle.”

“Sweetie, it’s not the issue of gentle or hard.”

“Oh no?”

“What can I say? The second you touch me it’s like propriety goes out the window and I can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“I could—”

Emmy raised a finger and one eyebrow at the same time. “Don’t say you can think of something to keep it busy.”

He raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “You know me too well. But if you come in for the night, I will do my damnedest to play fair and keep you from hollering too much.” He gave her his best, most charming grin.

“I didn’t submit my paperwork,” she said, though it was a halfhearted excuse. “I was supposed to have it in to the GM and Chuck after the game.”

“Extenuating circumstances.” He lowered his hands to her waist and drew her towards him, enjoying the warm press of her body up against him. “Plus, we have a game to win tomorrow. I don’t want to mess with a good thing.”

Tucker kissed her neck and felt any lingering resistance melt out of her. She looped her arms around his back, up under his jersey.

“I did want to sleep with you in uniform.”

“I hope you’ll still want to sleep with me when it’s off.”

“I think I’ll still like you just fine. But promise me I get to watch you touch your toes at least once before you lose the pants.”

He pulled her into the room and shut the door behind her.





When Tucker awoke in the morning, Emmy was gone.

He’d known she would leave early to avoid being spotted, in spite of the perfect excuse she had for being with him. Knowing she’d leave and waking to find her side of the bed vacant were two very different things. It was also surprising to him how quickly he’d come to think of it as her side of the bed.

The sadness of it being cold and empty was all the more shocking to him.

He knew his feelings for her ran deep, but he was only now starting to realize how deep. He’d given her a perfect opportunity to tell him what her feelings were, and she’d bounced the question right back at him, so he’d done the only thing he could think of, and he deflected. He’d told her the bare minimum of the truth.

If they continued on like this, sooner or later he’d cave and tell her how he felt. And if it happened too soon, she’d think he was nuts and run for the hills.

He couldn’t risk losing her. Not because she was good luck, but more importantly she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Professionally she had made him a better player, and personally she made him a better man.

If he had to pretend love wasn’t on his mind, he could do that. He could focus on playing the game—which should have been his first priority anyway—and just have fun with her.